


Easing up

by birdieflies



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Ord Mantell, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6312559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdieflies/pseuds/birdieflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the rebels set up Hoth base, Han and Leia are dispatched to Ord Mantell, a hot springs planet, for a discreet meeting with a foreign dignitary. But while they start to sort out their feelings for each other, they might miss what else is at play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can a scoundrel swim?

She had been on worse missions than this one, she told herself. 

The mission to Galgurga, where she had been separated from Luke and had to find her way through the swamp by herself, half blind in the dark. The mission to Rakrenzi, where Milla and Reg decided to blow off some steam in the bunk next to hers.

Her examples were light, so what? Bad missions — the truly bad kind — were better left forgotten.

Hurtling away from Home One even as Chewbacca flew the Falcon the opposite way to help set up the new base on Hoth, Leia looked across the cockpit to the captain. He wasn’t watching her, focused on his calculations, the tendons of his neck shifting in high relief as he rolled his head, a quirk of his. 

A twisting feeling in her gut directed her eyes away. Perhaps she had better start thinking of reasons this mission was awful, after all.

* * *

 

“Hey, Your Regalness!”

Leia rolled herself out from underneath the speeder and glared at him. He was leaning against it, grinning in that way that never boded well.

Covered in engine grease, she felt anything but regal.

“Can I help you, Captain?”

“I’m sure you could, sweetheart, but I’ve got a question for you instead,” he said. 

He clearly wasn’t going to go on without a response, just grinning at her like that. She groaned, sitting up. 

“I’m listening.”

“Is it true you bathe in milk?”

Leia’s hand went to her face in exasperation. At the moment, she would give secret plans just to bathe in anything.

For good measure, she gestured at herself. 

“Where did you get that delusion, grav head?”

“I didn’t mean now,” he said. “But say, before. I thought that’s what all the fancy people do on planets like Alderaan and Coruscant.”

For some reason, he was the only one she could bare to hear talk about Alderaan. Possibly because he was the only one who didn’t treat the subject like glass, like doom. Like the end of her world.

“I have never bathed in milk, Captain,” Leia said. “Nor have I known anyone who claims to.” 

“That’s a lie, though,” Han said. “I saw some once. In a bottle. In one of those water showers at some place on Trikkinci.”

Leia blinked. 

“That’s called soap.” 

He didn’t fire back, only looked at her funny. Something dawned on her.

“Was that your first water shower, Captain?” 

“I didn’t use it,” Han said. There was a bravado there she knew, nearly three years after meeting him. He wanted her to think there was some glory in his masculinity, in the idea that he hadn’t showered, but there beneath…

“You didn’t know how, did you?” 

She smiled. There, around his ears, was a sort of red. He might have been smiling a little bit, too.

“Pretty wasteful, fancy stuff, just soaking yourself in water,” he mumbled.

Leia stood up.

“It isn’t wasteful in places like Alderaan. The water made up most of the planet. After we used it, we cleaned it and returned it, almost better than it was before.”

“Water makes up most of Corellia, too, exalted one,” Han said. “And nobody’s getting in that water.”

“No,” Leia said. She nodded. “Corellia is too industrialized. It’s contaminated.” 

She was about to go back to her work, the speeder was up for inspection in two time parts anyway, when suddenly she realized something.

“Ha— Captain,” she asked, spinning around. She knew from the look in his eyes that her smile was fatal. “You don’t know how to swim, do you?”

* * *

 

Ord Mantell.

Carlist set it up. 

It was an important mission, there’s no doubt about that. They needed to speak with the appointed delegate from the Trianatt System. But he was tracked, watched, seen. He could not make his way out to the rim where they were stationed.

Instead, he would go where delegates often go — on a pleasure trip. The boiling mineral pools of Ord Mantell are known galaxy-wide as a cure for many diseases, but most of all work. If in the private areas he so happened to meet a young honeymooning couple, like so many honeymooning couples who go to bathe on the planet, no one would blink.

One room.

One bed.

A chaise, too, for good measure. 

Three nights.

She went back and forth between which motive she wanted to believe. She settled on peace. The constant bickering distracted the troops, diffused the orderly appearance of command. The captain’s actions encouraged insubordination. 

It would be a tactic she had used often, both in the senate and on behalf of the Alliance: when two cannot settle their differences, lock them up together. They will find a way or the strongest will survive.

Han swiveled his head toward her, a glint in his eye as he caught her own. She could feel him preen at her blush.

She hoped to everything that peace was Carlist’s only motivation.

* * *

 

He was pretty sure he gaped when he saw her walking toward her at the hangar. 

Pretty sure. As in, there was a chance he didn’t.

He almost definitely did.

She had been wearing uniforms for the past two years. Flight jackets. Vests. Sturdy pants. Work boots.

She wore white as much as she could, even though it stained. And somehow, for a princess, she was stained a lot. There were plenty of women, and men for that matter, on base who did their operational duties behind computers. Clean. 

But she was always covered in whatever the machines were covered in that week, a sonic next to her as she tried to look at least presentable. 

“I thought princesses were supposed to be, like, dainty or something,” He said one day as she wheeled her way out from under Luke’s X-Wing. “How come you’re the only one I’ve met and you’re covered in grease all the time?”

“Well, for one, I was adopted,” she muttered. Han nearly choked on the sweet grapple he was eating. 

“Adopted.” 

“Adopted.” She said. 

“I didn’t think royal people did that,” Han said.

“Well, my parents did.”

He studied her.

“So this is all an act,” he said. He was grinning. “The walking all straight and the fancy talk and all that. Really, you’re just an orphan like me and Luke.”

That was the danger of going and pulling princesses out from under spacecraft. It made you want to stay. 

Han would have himself entirely convinced it was time to go pay off Jabba. And then he’d wander into a garage, find Leia covered in oil. 

And every time he decided he could take on one more supply run or set of training exercises. 

“No,” she said. She stood up and smiled back at him. “Unlike you, I was taught some manners growing up.” 

But this, on the hangar… this wasn’t an act. This was everything he could have imagined she was when she was somewhere else. Somewhere where she wasn’t around somebody like him.

The big green gown rustled as she walked, and had little gold… _things_ … all over it. It kept going several feet behind her. As she walked, he realized it changed color in the light. As she walked, he realized how she kind of looked like she was floating when she wanted to.

And then there was her hair. 

Half of it was caught up in two little pouches over her ears. The rest of it bounced around her, loose, as though it were floating, too.

Her face looked pretty, too.

“Captain,” she said. There was something there between a smile and a question.

“Princess,” Han choked. Leia’s eyebrow quirked.

“You aren’t dressed, Captain.”

Startled, he looked down. He was dressed. But, right, not the way he was supposed to be. He thought of the emerald green pantaloons crushed into his knapsack and shuddered.

“I really have to wear that stuff?” He whined. “Ah c’mon, I thought it was a joke.”

Leia’s eyebrows stitched up farther. There was a smirk.

“Our cover is to be Naboo gentry, Captain,” she said. “We can hardly pass into Ord Mantell if you look like a scarecrock come to life.” 

He bristled, but sighed. He wasn’t going to wear that ridiculous outfit on base, he wasn’t going to give her that much satisfaction.

“I’ll change on the ship,” he muttered.

* * *

 

It was lurid. A pale purple shuttle hardly larger than a speeder, hardly better equipped than a pleasure cruiser. Like the ridiculous outfits, it, too, came from Naboo.

“So I don’t know much about this planet we’re supposedly from,” Han said. “That’s probably something that should have been in my briefing packet.” 

“Oh,” Leia said. 

He waited, shifting his eyes over to her. 

“I grew up learning about Naboo, I assumed everyone did,” Leia said. She was frowning. “I don’t know why. It was very important to my father that I learned about the planet.”

“Not me, Princess,” he said. “Blank slate.”

The title came out of him so easily today. Not like pulling teeth like it usually did. By the way her eyebrow crooked up at him, he knew she noticed.

“We should probably start using our cover names, Captain,” Leia said. 

“Alright, _Melila_ ,” Han said. It was pretty. Leia smiled. “What?”

“It sounds like a name my father used to call me,” Leia said. “I think that’s why Carlist chose it.” 

She barely ever broke through that facade, the one where people were humans. It wasn’t _Carlist_ or _Mon_ , it was _the General_ or _the Supreme Leader_. 

_Captain_.

“So, _Gavec_ ,” she said. “What do you need to know about Naboo?” 

* * *

 

Melila and Gavec Penderen. Room 816 of the Watercress. A great limestone resort that looked more like a fortress.

“If this is the sort of mission they send you on but no one else, I might just sign on as your personal pilot,” Han muttered. 

“The only missions where you haven’t been my personal pilot have ended up in a swamp or a desert,” Leia muttered back. Han’s eyes slid over to meet hers, and he grinned.

Once in the room, Leia surveyed their accommodations. Their baggage was unpacked, as she expected. Han seemed perturbed that anyone had touched his belongings, but Leia had made sure he had nothing sensitive on him. She continued to circle the room until she found it: a small black dot attached to a wall, no larger than an insect.

“What’s that?” Han asked, noticing her reaching up and poking it with the end of the thin-barreled pistol blaster she had concealed in her pocket. “And I thought you said not to come armed?”

“A peep spy,” Leia said. “Give me your knife, I need something to scrape it.” 

Han handed her the knife she knew he kept in the instep of his left boot. She cut the device off the wall and held it in her hand. 

“It’s Triani,” Leia said, satisfied. 

She walked out onto the balcony and dropped the little bead over the side. Han started to speak, but she held a finger to her lips until she finished her circuit. With his right foot he stepped up onto a small table, his hand on his boot where Leia knew he had a blaster.

“Should we be _concerned_ that our liaison bugged our room?” Han drawled, as Leia dropped her hand and gave him a small nod of approval. 

“It’s pretty standard,” Leia said. “If anything, they want to make sure that we’re not an easy target for others.” 

“So you just enter into these negotiations with these groups you don’t know if you can trust, and just deal with the fact that they’re openly trying to spy on you?” 

“You didn’t think it was easy, did you?” Leia asked. She laughed. “Be careful, Solo. Someone might mistake your for naive.” 

She grinned as she turned away, back over to the dresser. She could feel his eyes on her profile, sizing her up. It wasn’t the first time. 

“Gods help whoever crossed you in the senate,” he said. “Hell, how’d you even hide that blaster in there?” 

“There’s a bigger one strapped to my leg,” she said. She reached back into the large pockets built into the framing of the dress and pulled out a pair of data pads. She handed one to Han. 

“There’s a code box up here that we’ll stash these in while we’re out at the baths. Milla gave me a code to override the default settings, so the staff won’t be able to break in."

“You aren’t serious about this thing about the baths,” Han said. Leia frowned at him.

“It’s our cover,” she said. “We’re hardly convincing as honeymooners if we don’t at least _visit_ the baths.”

“We’re _honeymooners_ , we don’t have to leave the room,” Han said. He wiggled his eyebrows futilely and Leia rolled her eyes.

“We’re going,” she said. “They’re shallow. You won’t even have to learn to swim.”

“I can swim,” Han said, shifting his weight. Leia rolled her eyes again and reached into the wardrobe, taking out a light blue nightgown. 

“Sure you can, hotshot. I’m going to go change.”


	2. Wookiee Moms and Nightmares

The next morning, Han could barely consider his luck.

He’d grown up a dirt poor orphan. He’d spent the largest part of his life running black market goods. Then he fell in with some suicidal freedom movement.

And now he was on a calm, peaceful planet, listening to the sound of water and looking at the blue sky, holding hands with a princess as they walked under a warm sun.

She was wearing yellow today. He liked her in color, he had decided. She looked more alive. 

“Hurry up, will you? We’re going to the baths, not a death squad,” Leia muttered. Like that, Han was reminded that this particular princess wasn’t too far off from his life story, really.

Maybe that’s what scared him.

A wicked thought went through him, and he lifted his arm, spinning her around and into him. He leaned in close, close enough that anyone watching would think they were kissing, but far enough that her startled face turned into a look of unamusement.

“How’s that for keeping our cover, Melila?” he asked. She rolled her eyes and disentangled herself. 

Their clothes were less cumbersome, but no less ridiculous, Han decided. There were ruffles everywhere, even though his outfit was breezier and more simply constructed. Leia’s yellow dress had ribbons everywhere. 

Finally they approached what looked to Han like a series of holes in the ground filled with water. There weren’t many people in them, but a few. Leia led him to the largest, which was empty.

“This is the coolest one,” she said. “I thought you might like to start here.” 

Han looked at her, wondering what he should do.

“Take the shirt off,” Leia whispered. She giggled. “The pants are meant for the water. Go on.” 

Han did what she said, and then gaped to see Leia pulling her dress up over her head. But there, underneath, was what looked like bright red underthings. 

“It’s a swimming costume,” Leia whispered. “Haven’t you seen a poster?”

Han had. He had never put it together before. And now, with Leia standing in front of him, her hair pulled back in a loose braid and her shoulders bent over even as she tried not to cover herself, he decided he never wanted to see anything else. 

Taking his eyes off her, Han looked down into the pool of water. It was constructed, so he could see the bottom, probably about four feet below the surface. With a wink, he leapt in.

It was warmer than drinking water and… everywhere. He had been submerged in substances before, most of them unsavory, but never quite like this. He leaned back, letting it lap around him. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice Leia walk around to a stair case he hadn’t noticed, walking into the water.

“This ain’t so bad,” he said. She smiled.

“It is very nice,” she said. 

He looked at Leia. She was circling — twirling almost. Her fingers skimmed the surface of the water, her eyes were closed. She looked younger than he had ever seen her. She looked relaxed. And beautiful.

“This is what you were like, isn’t it? Before?”

“Before what?” Leia asked. Distracted. Care free. He barely realized he was smiling.

“Before you started criss-crossing the galaxy with smugglers and low-lifes.” 

Leia giggled, looking up at him. That laugh always made his heart swell or his chest contract — he wasn’t sure which.

“I only criss-cross the galaxy with one smuggler. I don’t know about low-lifes.” 

“Oh, there are definitely low-lifes,” Han said. He walked toward her. “They’re everywhere. Just look at the Skywalker character. I don’t trust him.” 

Leia kept laughing. Han’s breathing still wasn’t happening quite right. He lifted one of his wet arms and dripped water over her head, watched her squeal.

All at once, there was water everywhere. In his eyes, his nose and mouth. Soaking over his hair and chest. He spat it all out and managed to breathe again, then shook himself out and wiped it out of his eyes and saw Leia standing there, her back hunched defensively, a wicked grin on her face as she threatened to splash him again. 

“Oh that’s playing dirty,” he said. “You won’t even go easy on somebody who’s never dealt with this stuff before?”

“Poor dear,” Leia said. Her smirk was going to kill him someday. And just like that, there was a wave of water again.

Han was better prepared for it this time. He closed his eyes and lunged through it, grabbing onto Leia and picking her up. He hadn’t thought this through, he realized, feeling her cool skin under his hands and against his chest, but Han Solo never backed down even in moments of severe stupidity. Ignoring her surprised squeal and yell of “Don’t!” he pulled her over and dunked her down into the water.

He let go almost immediately — gods knew how long someone could survive under that, and stood back as Leia came up from under the water. 

She wiped her eyes and stared at him, her mouth opening, and oh Gods it was coming, but there, behind her…

“Honey,” he stepped on her outburst. Her eyebrows shot down in concern. “We aren’t alone.”

Leia spun around and saw what Han had. It was an elderly couple, patting their way up from one of the smaller baths. 

Leia took her hair down from its braid, shaking it around her face. Han nudged his head in the direction of the bench built into the side of the pool and Leia followed him.

She surprised him, curling up next to him on the bench, right under his outstretched arm. She had to kneel to keep her head above water — it was right at Han’s neck.

He rolled his head over to her, his mouth right by where he assumed her ear was underneath the wet curtain of hair she had unleashed. 

“You think I blew our cover? The dunk thing?” He asked.

Leia pushed her hair back and fixed him with an incredulous look. It was almost funny, seeing her make that bossy face while resembling a bogwog. 

“Have you been around Reg and Milla?” She asked. 

Han shrugged. He hadn’t really thought the Damerons were exactly a typical married couple, but he hadn’t been around too many of them. 

“Hello,” Leia chimed out as the old man stepped down into the water and turned around to help the old woman in after him. The man absently waved a hand in return to Leia’s greeting.

“Not that present company isn’t charming,” Han muttered in Leia’s ear, “but we’re kinda out on our own here if someone less friendly comes along.”

Leia turned her head up, her mouth close to his ear as she breathed, “I packed both of our blasters in the basket, they’re in towels at the bottom.”

“Oh, Harro, we’re interrupting the youngsters,” the woman said.  She had short grey hair, spun all over her face. 

“These kids don’t mind us, do you?” The man said.

“No, sir,” Han said, still gawking at Leia. He brought his arm down around her, pulling him to her, as he kissed her on the top of her head. 

* * *

 

Later, when they returned to the room, Leia immediately went about braiding her hair back up as Han walked over to the room bar. There was a hefty tag on the Corellian whiskey, naturally, but he picked up a bottle of something bubbly that was sitting out in front. It was written in some fancy script he didn’t recognize.

“This doesn’t have a tag on it,” he said as he held it out in Leia’s direction.

“It’s a gift,” Leia said, finishing with her hair and going over to the wardrobe. She had a towel over her shoulders covering the view of her breasts Han had come to rather enjoy, but he could still see her little waist. “We said it was our honeymoon when we put the reservation in. Pour me a glass.” 

Han popped the cork and did as she said, pouring a second for himself and holding it up to the light. He took a drink. The bubbles were weird, but it wasn’t bad. No bite compared to anything he was used to.

“This champagne?” He asked. 

“Yes,” Leia said. She took out a dark blue dress and headed for the ‘fresher. When she emerged she had wound her braid up around her head, but she seemed still human, still down to planet, and not at all in place in the dress. It put Han more at ease, and he passed her the glass.

“To the Penderens,” he said, and they clinked glasses. Leia took a drink and made a face.

“They could have gone for something nicer than this,” she said. 

Han laughed, topping off both of their glasses before going to sit down.

“That old couple, what did you think?” He asked. Leia sighed and sat down on the chaise he had made his bed. It showed no signs of that use now — they had put away the blanket and pillow themselves so as not to alert the housekeeping staff — but it still made Han think of how little she had looked asleep in the bed when he got up late to use the ‘fresher the night before. 

“He’s an imperial officer, isn’t he?” Leia asked. Han nodded.

“What tipped you off?” 

“I’m not sure,” Leia said. “Something about the way he moved. I’ve been around a lot, you know? And the way he spoke. The way he said Corescant.” 

“Posture gets drilled into you,” Han said. “So does the speaking pattern.”

“Is that why you can’t sit up straight and speak like an outer rim bumpkin?” Leia asked. She was smiling. 

“Rebellion comes in the littlest ways, sweetheart,” Han said. He took a long drink of the champagne, and held the glass out beside him.

“Is it weird?” Leia asked. “Not being around Chewbacca?” 

“Eh,” Han grunted. “Big lug can get on fine by himself.” 

“That’s not what I asked,” Leia said. 

Her smile was so gentle. Han put one foot up on his other knee, the feeling strange without his boots. 

“Yeah, I haven’t gone a day without him in several years,” he said. “It’s weird, but also nice, because he’s such a mother hev, you know? Always worrying. It’s nice to feel like a grown man again.”

Leia laughed. She’d done so much of that this trip. He liked the sound of it. 

“You two are always picking on each other, I had no idea he was so… maternal.” 

“Yeah, that’s Chewie,” Han said. “Him and that stupid life debt. He takes it too seriously, like he thinks I’m going to through an airlock any time I turn around.”

“He knows you,” Leia said. “That’s all very sweet of him. How did you get him to let you off on this mission without him?” 

A blush took hold of Han’s neck, and he rubbed the back of his head. 

“He thinks you’re pretty capable of keeping me out of trouble,” Han said. 

Leia studied him. He thought he saw some color in her cheeks. 

“That sounds like a compliment,” she said. She turned toward the bar and pulled a piece of paper off of it. “Let’s order room service. I think we’ve made enough public appearances for one day.”

* * *

 

That night, Han watched as a freshly showered and braided Leia prepared for bed.

“You’re sure you wouldn’t rather trade off?” she asked, gesturing to where Han had once again prepared to sleep on the chaise. 

“Take the bed, princess,” Han said. “I wouldn’t know what to do with all that space, anyway.” 

Leia scrambled into bed, that same light blue nightgown pooling out around her. She sat right in the middle of the bed, her legs tucked under her, her hair in two long braids down her back. 

“Goodnight, then,” she said. 

Han turned off the light and took off his shirt; it was too stuffy. He headed over to the chaise. 

“Goodnight.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t.

It couldn’t have been that much later; Han felt like he was emerging from the depth of one of those damned water pools. But Leia was screaming, and Han was scrambling up from the bed.

“What is it?” He asked. She was still yelling, even as Han toppled over most of the bar trying to get to the light switch. “Leia? What’s wrong?”

Finally, there was light. He looked around, looking for a threat, only to find Leia curled up in the middle of the bed, shaking. 

A cold sense washed over him. He had seen the kid in just that position, curled up and yelling at some far off threat. But that was his… jedi stuff. And this was Leia. A nightmare. 

Han looked down at the bar and saw nothing had broken, just as she yelled again. 

He half jogged over to the bed, saying her name again. She didn’t wake. He knelt up on it, reached over, shook her until her eyes opened. She was breathing hard through her mouth as she looked up.

“Han,” she whispered.

“It’s a dream,” he said. “You were dreaming. But you were yelling.” 

Leia rolled over onto her back, rubbed her eyes. She looked back at him timidly, as he rested back on his feet.

“You had me scared there,” he said as she sat up. “It was a nightmare, right?” 

Leia nodded.

“I have it a lot,” she said. Her voice sounded funny. Han realized she was crying.

“Leia?” 

“I’m fine,” she said. But she clearly wasn’t. A little sob racked out of her, and he saw her frustration. He sat all the way down on the bed, waited for her to look up again.

“It’s ‘cause your hair,” he said. His voice was soft. She looked up at him, confused. “You’re not supposed to wear your hair coiled to bed. It holds the bad stuff close.” 

“Who told you that?” Leia asked. She let out a little smile.

“It’s a Corellia thing,” he said. “C’mere.” 

She moved closer to him as he reached over and started undoing her braids. Her hair was soft under his fingers.

“My hair is going to be a mess if I sleep with it unbraided,” she said.

“I’ll help you comb it,” he said. He wasn’t really sure what he was saying. He wasn’t quite sure he knew what was happening. Technically he was in bed with a princess, in a honeymoon suite on a resort planet, in the middle of the night. And all he could think of was making sure she felt safe.

“It’s also a Corellia thing that if you tell someone your dream it won’t come true,” Han said. “So you can, you know, use that defensively.”

“It already did,” Leia said. Her voice was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear it. He stopped working on her hair and looked at her.

“I dream about Alderaan,” she said. “It starts just like it happened, where I’m looking down on it from the death star. But then I’m getting closer, and closer. I see my parents.  It’s the midday meal, but they all see it coming. I see my dad holding my mother to him, whispering that at least I’m not there. I look around the room, and I see my aunts and uncles. It’s like I float all over the place. Sometimes I go looking for people I know — my tutors, my friends, my maids.”

She turned and sunk her head into Han’s chest. He finished undoing the last of her plait, and stroked his hand through her hair.

“It’s just a dream,” he said.

“It’s so real,” Leia said. “Tonight I found my little cousins. There are three of them, all girls. The oldest of them was six. They were playing in the garden. The middle one, Essa, saw it and just started screaming, and Nallia scooped her and Tallie up and just held them. And then it’s all back to how I saw it, from the ship. Red and yellow and orange and black. Gone.” 

“You don’t know it happened that way,” Han said. He rubbed a hand over her back. But something about it sent a chill up his spine. “You’re so brave.” 

That only made her cry harder. 

Han scooted up into the bed and put his feet under the covers, resting his back up against the pillows. He continued to whisper to her as she cried.

Finally, when she seemed to run dry, he ran one hand through her hair again. 

“You want to keep the light on?” He asked. 

“Yes.” Her voice was hoarse. Her eyes were closed.

“You want me to get up and go back to the chaise?”

“No.” 

Her arm wrapped gently around him. He held her tighter. And he stayed there.

 


	3. The plot thickens

It was strange, waking up so smoothly.

Leia’s mornings commenced with either the jolt of an alarm or the grey fog of wondering if she had truly slept at all. 

This was neither. She felt as though she were coming up from a deep pool of water, the sleep breaking off and the comfort solidifying into the smell of something masculine, the feel of something strong and warm but also soft around her.

The sound of a stomach growling.

It wasn’t hers.

Leia’s eyes snapped open, and she found herself up close and personal to what felt horribly, suspiciously like a well-toned chest. 

The warmth going slack around her and sliding away felt terribly like a pair of arms attached to steady, heavy hands, too.

“G’morning.” 

For some reason, she had woken up halfway on top of Han Solo. She had no idea how she got there.

She bolted upright, making sure the loose Nabooese nightgown was securely in place, and forced herself to look at him. The heat in her face was overpowering. 

She had been _cuddling_ Han Solo. 

He fixed her with his most quelling gaze.

“You had a nightmare,” he said. 

“Oh.”

Leia remembered. The tension sunk out of her, but she was still blushing. She looked down, picking at one of the ribbons on her nightgown. It was easier than looking at his bare chest. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Han said. He spread his arms out across the pillows, like this was effortless. “You want the ‘fresher first?” 

Leia shook her head. 

Out of the bed, Han looked back at her. He had a weird look on his face. Leia couldn’t think of anything to say, either. It was weird. 

“You kick when you sleep, you know that? Damn violent.” 

Leia laughed.

“Sorry?” She said. 

Han waved an arm at her dismissively and walked into the refresher. But then, just as Leia turned back to face the foot of the bed and regroup, he reappeared.

“Umm, Melila?” 

“Yes?” Leia said. She made a face at the sound of her code name, but decided it was appropriate. It had been a mistake for them to use their civilian names the night before, not least of all because they weren’t actually on a first-name basis. Though, they had just shared a bed, so a first-name basis couldn’t really be that far behind. 

“How do I use the, use the thing?” 

Leia blinked. Then it dawned on her.

“The shower?”

“Yeah,” Han said. He scratched the back of his head. Then he turned back to her, leaning up against the wall, that stupid grin on his face. “You could show me, if you wanted.”

Leia rolled her eyes.

“There should be a temperature control bar. Test it aimed at your foot first. All you do is set the temperature and push the button.” 

Han nodded. He looked like an intimidated school boy. 

“And the white shit?” 

“You rub it on and then wash it off,” Leia said. 

Han nodded. 

“Last chance for a demonstration,” he said. Leia threw a pillow at him.

A minute later she heard a yelp, then a straight out cry. Apparently he figured it out, though, as she heard nothing but running water for a period of time. 

Leia walked over and set out one of the more casual day dresses — pink. She hadn’t worn pink in so long. It was a pale shade, one that wouldn’t overwhelm with girlishness. She ran her hand over it and then walked over to a counter where her hair comb sat.

Leia looked at herself. She needed to get a grip. Yes, she had slept in a bed with a man, with Han Solo. Her hair was a mess. 

It probably concerned her most that he didn’t seem to care. 

The shower cut off, and after a moment the door opened, and he emerged in only a towel. 

Leia froze, holding her comb angled up at her temple, making eye contact with him in the mirror. Han’s throat muscles flexed as he swallowed.

“I…forgot I should have brought clothes in,” he said. Leia nodded, and looked back at the mirror. It was better than looking at him, his wet hair, his chest. Why was she seeing so much of his chest? And why did she like his hair wet so much? 

She must have glanced back up, because she saw him shake his head, droplets flying all over the place. One fell on her arm. She stepped closer to the mirror as he passed behind her, and walked over to the wardrobe. 

“Where the hell did all these clothes come from, anyway?” Han said. He picked up the top outfit. Leia vaguely registered that at least part of it was black.

“I don’t know about the men’s clothes,” Leia said. “But the gowns belonged to Padme Amidala.” 

“That queen lady?” Han asked. He looked skeptical.

“Yes,” Leia said. She brought the comb down through her hair. The knots were terrible. 

“Didn’t she get us into this mess?” Han asked. Leia gaped, and spun around.

It was a bad mistake. He was terribly close. She could feel the dampness rising off of him. 

“Padme Amidala started the rebellion,” Leia snipped, looking up at him. It was harder than usual to focus on her argument.

His eyebrow rose. It wasn’t fair how terribly handsome he was.

“Look,” Han said. “I was just a kid working in the back of a speed shop, but I specifically remember all the old men blaming her when the chancellor took over. Said she’d overthrown the old one to get him there.”

Leia shook her head, turning back around.

“It’s much more complicated than that. But I’m unsurprised a group of Corellian men would decide that it was a woman’s fault.”

“What’ve you got against Corellian men?” Han spat. “Other than thinking such things are too complicated for our tiny little minds?” 

“Excuse me for not wanting to discuss the sensitive information about the rebellion’s history with someone unclothed,” Leia said, before she realized what a horrible mistake it was.

She glanced up in the mirror. He was smirking. With one hand holding up his towel, he leaned over her, holding himself up with an arm against the wall, his well-muscled arm so close to her shoulder. She tried not to think about how strong his arms were.

“It distracting that I’m not wearing any clothes, princess?” 

“Go away,” Leia said. It wasn’t a particularly helpful comment. But after a chuckle that was too close to her ear, he complied. 

The lack of a retort made it even worse. 

Leia had made little headway when he came back out, dressed in a frivolous confection of a red shirt and tight black breeches. 

“I don’t think these fit right,” Han said. 

“No, they do,” Leia said evenly. He must have noticed her predicament, because he frowned in the direction of her hair. 

“You weren’t kidding about a mynock nest up there,” Han said. He almost sounded ashamed. “You want some help with that?”

“I’m fine,” Leia said. She tugged out another knot. It hurt.

Han came up behind her and took the comb out of her hand. Leia let him, her arms sore from holding them upright and vigorously tearing at her hair for so long. She was suddenly extremely conscious of the fact she wasn’t wearing her gel support tank, but that was stupid. She had been flat against his chest earlier. Surely her humiliation there was already complete.

He slid his hand into her hair against her scalp. His hands were so large, but steady. He closed his fingers together — the movement felt so good it was all Leia could do not to roll her head into it. He started running the comb through her tangles in short bursts, and she barely felt a thing. 

“Why are you so good at this?” Leia asked. It was hard to keep the edge in her voice that kept it from sounding like a real compliment. She thought of him combing the hair of all the girls he had a reputation for on base. It didn’t make any sense.

“Wookiees produce an oil that has a terrible congealing reaction with certain engine lubricants,” Han said. He was using that nice voice, the conversational one that didn’t make her want to kill him. It was horribly frustrating when she was trying to be angry with him. “And there’s a reason why ‘to comb a wookiee’s back’ is a saying for extreme trust.” 

“Oh,” Leia said. 

“See, I have my uses,” Han said. His voice was still so nice. He moved on to another section, his hand dragging through her hair as he moved it. “Personal pilot. Nightmare curer. Hair comber. You could be a little nicer about it.” 

Leia blushed. She was being a little cruel.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“I said you could, not that you had to,” Han said. “I kind of like that you’re a first class brat sometimes. Lets me know you’re not the marble statue the alliance keeps trying to make you.” 

Leia sighed, looking down.

“How do you know I’m not the one trying to become a marble statute?” Leia asked.

“Oh, I know you are,” Han said. “But you’re kinda bad at it. Marble statues don’t talk about it.” 

Leia rolled her eyes. Han tugged her hair just a little bit. 

“It’s a good thing to be bad at,” Han said. 

“Coming from a reliable source,” Leia said. But she was smiling.

When he finished, she took the pink gown into the refresher with her and looked in the mirror, running her hands through her hair. It felt so much softer than usual.

* * *

The wind on his face felt nice.

Han was almost never outside. That was the sacrifice of a spacer. You lived in a ship, docked in a station, and when you were on planet you were usually in a garage somewhere, not eating lunch on a balcony with a princess.

Of course, knowing the princess had a blaster up her sleeve — literally — added some adrenaline to the mix. 

Han didn’t know if he’d ever crack Leia. One second he thought he knew her better than she knew herself, or let her know herself, since she obviously knew it all somewhere. But then she’d shut down and he’d be left wondering what it was that he didn’t get.

The new information he’d come across in the past day cycle definitely filled in some of the gaps. Particularly the part about watching Alderaan explode. It wasn’t like he considered himself her top confidante or anything, but he had a feeling that she hadn’t exactly let that one slip to anyone else. 

Except, sometimes, at his most confused, he wondered if he was her top confidante by default. She made it so damn _difficult_ all the time, and no one else seemed to even be trying. 

He also wondered if what happened on the Death Star was what made her shut him out so easily. He hadn’t hidden the fact he’d been through the Academy and launched into the Navy. He’d left it, sure, but for someone who always had such strong convictions about everything, even being willing to go in was probably a sign of his terrible character.

She was so quiet now, sitting across from him, her hair tied low against her neck with a black ribbon, the pale pink of her high-necked dress prim. 

He had gone too far with the marble statue comment, he knew. But he got so frustrated when she kept trying to be so damn perfect all the time. It made him irrationally angry to see her cool and unaffected when at her best she was so _alive_. 

He’d seen her joyously laughing with that white-haired girl on command and sweet with the kid. All Han ever seemed to get directed at him was her blind, unadulterated wrath, but he would take it over the dead-eyed treatment any day.

She was even violent toward him in her sleep. He had to suppress a grin when he thought of it. It was a stupid thing to be so amused by — Chewie had much worse stories of Han’s behavior asleep — but it was so _Leia_.

It was also an excuse to think of how she felt against him. 

That was the no-good part of his brain talking. But he’d done an admirable job of not getting a boner and scaring the shit out of her, so he could think about it and still sleep at night, so to speak.

It had been nice to help her out, though. He had often thought over the past few years that she looked like she could use a good night’s sleep.

“Do you want to go back down to the pools later?” she asked. 

“Not particularly,” Han said. The waiter was hovering nearby “We could go back to the room and have that conversation you wanted to have. Clothed.” 

Leia blushed. It had a good effect; the waiter scrammed. 

“Okay,” she said. 

Han reached over the table and took her hand. She flinched, at first, and it made Han feel cold around his abdomen. But then she smiled apologetically, and he decided to get over it.

“You look nice in these colors you’ve been wearing,” he said. 

“Thank you.” 

There was that smile again. And she wasn’t taking her hand back. That was progress.

A man walked by the table. Han took in the cut of his hair, the posture, and immediately recognized him as an imperial officer. Well-paid, too, based on the fact the girl with him was definitely not his wife. 

“You see the woman in the mask, with the red hair?” He murmured. Leia leaned closer to hear him across the table. “A Krysstakaan prostitute.”

Leia started to crane her neck to see. Han squeezed her hand.

“You said this was a mostly political scene,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she said. 

“I think the clientele is changing over,” he said. 

Leia looked up casually, and then back to Han.

“Let’s head back, dear,” she said, maybe a little too brightly. 

He held her hand all the way back to the room, checking over his shoulder every once in a while.

He wasn’t too sure about this place.

* * *

 

A few hours later, Han was itching to get out of the room. 

It wasn’t the company, or maybe it was. It was nice to hear Leia talk about the things she cared about, really. She got that super passionate tone in her voice, the one that reminded Han that this girl had gone toe-to-toe with the Chancellor in the Senate, while secretly organizing for a rebellion against him. 

From the sound of it, Leia had a lot in common with that Amidala woman. He remembered the old men talking about how young she was. With a living, breathing, pint-sized firebrand in front of him, Han suddenly understood just how vibrant someone with that description could be.

He didn’t see what _Corellian_ men in particular had to do with that underestimation, but she was in a good mood and it was actually directed at him, so he wasn’t going to screw it up if he could help it.

No, what it was about Leia that made him want to get out of the room was the fact that even as she strictly talked about their mission the next day, he couldn’t get his mind away from the fact that the bed was right there next to them, and how soft her body was against his.

“Now, the representative will try to address the issue with you, because they are a martial society, and value masculinity,” Leia was saying. “You have to politely but firmly turn his attention back to me. Your assent should be enough to assuage his… concerns. H-C-Gaven?” 

Han had stood up and walked over to the balcony door. He wished he had a death stick. He’d kicked the habit years ago, but they always came to mind when he needed to clear his head. 

Out on the balcony, he tried to focus on the feel of wind on his face instead. He didn’t like how overpowering the thought of sex with Leia was, which was weird in itself. Even last week he had entertained the thought with a good laugh. But it didn’t seem abstract anymore. It seemed like something that could actually happen to him, and that terrified him. 

He wasn’t actually _that_ dumb, was he?

Why was this such a big damn ordeal, anyway? It was just sex he was thinking about. Nothing life-changing. And it wasn’t like he should feel guilty. He only thought of her as a girl instead of a woman because he knew greenrunners taller than her. He’d seen her kick a stormtrooper in the throat when her blaster fell out of reach. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, especially when it came to him.

“Are you alright?” Leia asked. It was a lot more harsh than concern. He looked down, trying to think of an excuse, when he saw something.

A man. In a bush. Below a nearby window. He held his finger up to tell her to be quiet, and then jerked his head to get her to come closer. She did, walking right up to him, putting her little hand high on his arm. It would have made a pretty sight to any spy. He flicked his finger out, and made sure Leia saw where he was pointing, before leaning over and blocking her face from view with his, in what would look like an embrace, but was really him getting as close as possible to her ear.

“Our friend,” he whispered. “Do we know where his accommodations are?”

“Mission staff does,” Leia said. Her voice was breathy and close. “But I don’t know if we can get an encryption out if we’re being watched.”

She tilted a little bit, so her face was so close to his. Her nose accidentally grazed his cheek. She was even prettier up close. 

“We shouldn’t risk it,” he said. “But we should send out a blue code. Let them know we’re on alert for trouble.”

Leia shook back her sleeve and hit a button on her comm bracelet that set off the rebellion’s blue code — the signal that flashed receivers blue in a way that was indiscernible to outside eyes, but let the alliance know there was a threat being assessed. It was one of Milla’s creations, and had saved their necks time and time again.

Han leaned back, and surreptitiously looked back out over the courtyard. The man was walking away. 

He looked at Leia, who nodded. Checking to make sure their blasters were secure, they headed out to follow him.

* * *

 

It was the waiter from the restaurant.

A chill went through Leia at the thought. 

Han had, stupidly, said something about how she looked in color while that man was nearby. Didn’t he know her Alderaani white was her top identifier? That disguise protocol basically operated on the assumption that no one would recognize her without it?

From the grim look on his face, he knew it. As anxious as she was, she couldn’t find it in her to chastise him more. 

They had followed him around the property for more than an hour, for sure, watching to see what he was doing. His aimlessness was conspicuous. He had finally gone into the cavesprings where they were set to hold their rendezvous the next day. 

“I’ll go get him,” Han said. His neck tendons were so tight.

“No,” Leia said. “We don’t know anything for sure. And it’s getting dark.”

“This guy we’re supposed to meet — he was supposed to arrive tonight, right?” 

“Yes,” Leia said. 

“Then don’t we gotta look out for him, too?” 

Leia sighed. Han was insanely selfless at times. Insane being the key word. 

“He assumed the risks when he agreed to meet us,” she said. 

There was a rustling. Han pushed her into the alcove they had watched the waiter from, pressed himself up against her defensively. 

He unbuttoned her sleeve and unhooked the holster that held her blaster, held it down by her leg. He was so close his eyes were all she could see in the fading light. 

She heard a laugh, and a flash of red hair.

“See, my love?” A woman’s voice said, dripping with the cloying sound of seduction. “We would not be the only ones.” 

Leia relaxed. Han did, too. When the two went on, Han drew her up into a tight hug. She was only a little ashamed to bury her face into his chest.

“This place is crawling with imperial officers,” Han said. “We’ll be safer in the room.” 

* * *

When they arrived back at the room, Leia immediately started checking it over for bugs.

Han helped, when he realized what she was doing. But after three passes, he decided to sit and pour himself another glass of the champagne rather than participate in her neurosis.

As she moved about the room, he watched the change come over her. All the relaxation, the joy he had seen take hold in the past few days drained out of her. Her posture became tighter, her smile shriveled into a pursed mouth, and, most annoyingly, she began looking to him and huffing.

“You’ve checked behind that fire sensor six times now,” he said. 

“Well, one of us has to show some concern about our safety,” she said. She moved on to stripping the bed for the fourth time. 

“I think we’ve been particularly thorough, _Melila_ ,” he said. She looked up at the use of the codename. “The best thing we can do is to go over tomorrow one last time and then go to bed.”

Flipping the sheets back onto the bed, Leia nodded. She walked over to the safe, unlocked it and took out the data pads. She handed one to Han and sat on the bed across from him, one leg crossed over the other, as she set them to tandem.

“This is our liaison,” she typed into the chat feature. The ruddy face of an old man popped up. “To trigger the meeting, one of us will need to remark on a storm on the Gascon System. His response will be that he hopes it will not upset the Crear crop.”

“Crears aren’t grown in the Gascon System,” Han typed back. “They come from Vangaasa.” 

Leia’s unimpressed gaze was exactly why he had sent the message.

“That is why we will know it’s him, laser brain,” Leia typed back. “I will then enter into final negotiations for the Trianatt System to join us.”

“And I’ll be there to look pretty,” he typed back. 

“You’ll be there to keep the location secure,” Leia responded. “And to back me up.” 

“What’s the negotiation?” He asked. “You never told me that part.” 

“Cornan (liaison), will be added to command, and his nephew will become an entry general. He wants level two, but I have to convince them that he needs to earn his place and we are not in a position where we can overly shake up the structure.” 

“You better not stick him on Rogue Squadron,” Han said. “The kid will have your head. I will, too, for that matter.”

“What — sticking around so long?”

Han looked at the little letters on his screen and swallowed.

“Yeah,” he typed. He looked across the room and made eye contact with Leia. The way he could see all those walls she put up and then see past them scared the hell out of him. He looked back down at his screen. He felt the habit of covering up with some harsh rejoinder stir up inside him, and then die.

“Someone’s gotta be able to keep up with you to watch your back,” he typed instead.

Leia smiled, that soft smile that almost looked like a blush. They were quiet for a moment. 

“I should get the blankets out,” Han said.

“No,” Leia said. She stood up. “We don’t know —“ she looked around the room. She didn't look at him as she spoke, but it was in the nervous way, not the mean one. “We survived before.” 

“Okay.” 

* * *

 

Later, in bed, Leia lay stiff, as far away from Han as she could.

She could hear him breathing.

It was softer than she would have expected, but unsteady, harsh at times in a way that almost sounded like a huff.

So he was awake, too. 

She was hyper-aware of that breathing, his presence, the way the blankets were warmer even though there was a good standard measure between them. 

The crazy thing was, she didn’t mind any of it. It was comforting. Just maybe not comforting enough.

Finally, she moved, shifting herself up and back down in place, her hair sliding off her shoulder. Han had convinced her to wear it down to bed, a hint of red around his cheeks as he told her she should. 

She wasn’t sure why she complied. It wasn’t the thought of his steady hand on her head, the way he looked at her in the mirror. 

“Y’ nervous?” 

It came out of him in a low murmur, his voice gruff from unused in quite some time as they had both lain there, horribly awake. 

“Yes.” 

She heard him turn over and turned over too. In the dark it was hard to know how close they were, but when he spoke his voice was nearby. 

“Don’t be. We’ll be fine. We’ll go in, you’ll do your thing, we’ll get the hell out of here on that stupid purple ship.” 

“It is an awful ship,” Leia said. She was smiling, though she knew he couldn’t see it. 

They were quiet for a little bit. Leia put her hand down between them, and not long after his hand touched hers. His hands were so large and rough, but every move he made with them was deliberate and gentle. He scooped her fingers up between his, the callouses rough against the soft sides of her hands. But she had her own callouses by now, too.

“You’re gonna do great,” he said. 

“Are you nervous, too?” 

It came out of her in small peak of adrenaline, cresting the wave of adrenaline that came with this, the feeling of his hand in hers, knowing it was truly happening to her and not wanting the moment to fade back into the place where all the moments when she almost felt human again seemed to fall.

“More anxious,” he said. He ran the pad of his thumb against the side of hers. It made her shiver. “I get freaked around imps; I feel like they can smell the traitor on me.” 

“I’m glad you’re a traitor,” Leia said. 

He squeezed her hand. 

“Do you really mean it? That you’re going to stay?” 

He let out a sigh, his hand a little more loose.

“I think so,” he said. The edge was creeping back into his voice. “I mean, don’t get me wrong — things can change. I’ve got a wookiee to look after, y’know. And then there’s how you rebel —“

“I want you to,” she said. He cut off abruptly. “Stay, I mean. I hope you do.” 

Han’s grip on her hand grew tighter, with a jerking moment similar to when he would pull her into a hug. Even just on her hand, his grip was so unguarded, so honest, she found herself feeling protective of it. 

Maybe of him.

“We’re gonna be great tomorrow,” he said. 

And to the feeling of his thumb running back and forth against her fingers, Leia fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, long chapter. This really took off! Quick note... this magically really started to take off. As I've fleshed this out, I've added another chapter, but don't let that intimidate you or make you feel like this will never end, it's more of an epilogue, really.


	4. The trap

When Han woke, it was still dark.

It was the startled waking of a smuggler, the phantom sound of danger, the feeling that something was soon and he may oversleep it.

Instead, he woke to the faint impression of a sleeping woman next to him, in the quiet room. 

Leia shifted. She was never still, even when she was asleep. He felt the blanket shift as she brought it up to herself, tucked it under her chin. 

Han sat up and rubbed his chin. He thought of the nickname the squadrons had for him. _Devoted_. _To the cause, of course_ , they had chirped off when Leia had asked them what they meant. 

She had settled on it being sarcasm and scorned all conversation with him for a week. Well, except when he stopped by in the garage with an extra ration bar and a story about Luke screwing up a training run. But, you know, publicly. 

He looked over at her. His eyes had settled to the small bits of blue and green light thrown around the room, and he could see her more clearly. She was just a little thing. How the hell had she ended up with the galaxy on her shoulders? Looking at her like this, he wanted to bundle her up and take her home. 

 _Right_ , he remembered with a pang. _She didn’t have one_. 

He looked at the chrono, and saw that it was around the time he usually woke up in the mornings. The night cycles were longer here on Ord Mantell, more relaxing. 

Han didn’t relax well. 

Their meeting was in four timeparts, so it would take place while many were still at rest. Then they would pack up and get the hell out of there.

Han had a spacer’s itch to get sky bound. It felt weird, not having sat at the controls for more than a day at a time. It felt even weirder to be preparing for a journey and not be rushing to fix a whole damn ship. He had been distracted on the way out with helping Chewie with the Falcon, but now that he thought about it, the slide on the lightspeed calibrator could use some oil. The read sensors were a little slow, too… and the hyperdrive boost could definitely use some more juice if they needed to get out of there fast enough.

He felt the anxiety well up inside him. He had to go check out the ship.  

If his one job in this was getting Leia safely off this damn planet, he was going to do it right. 

“Hey,” he grunted, leaning over her. She mumbled something and he put a large hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly. “I’m gonna go check on the ship.” 

She grumbled something, turning, her face on the bed. 

“Huh?”

“Don’t be fucking late.”

Han laughed. The thought of working on a ship, of doing something with his hands — something useful — had lifted his anxiety considerably. 

“I’ll meet you at the gate at sigma minus ten,” He said. “I’ll even yellow code if I’m running late so you don’t get all up in a twist.”

“Cayyabaaha.”

“You don’t talk so pretty in the morning, you know.”

 “Carry a blaster.” 

Right. Practical, that one.

“Never leave home without it,” he said. He reached over and tousled her hair — yeah it was a pretty big mess but she’d live — and stood up to walk out the door.

* * *

Something felt off. 

Leia stood at the mirror — why the hell did she ever listen to him? — tugging at the knots on her head and trying to pinpoint the weird feeling in her gut.

It wasn’t his absence. He’d gone off on his own mid-mission before. She didn’t need to babysit him. Sometimes he even did something useful, rather than incredibly stupid that could get them all killed. Hell, he might even be ahead on the current year if you didn’t count Uxin Buzikk, and that was as much Luke’s fault as his. 

No, Han had really been trying hard lately. She’d seen that in his reaction when Rogue Squadron missed their call signal and been caught in heavy fire while he was seven systems away hacking the Falcon out of the catching vines in jungles on Pionnett. 

If Han had been with them, he would have known to make the call even with Luke shot down. And the squadron would have respected it, rather than the ignored hesitant suggestion from Dak, because Han was that sort of leader. 

That had been over a year ago now, and Leia still saw him get upset about it. 

She reached her hand into her hair and steadied it as she combed. The sharp tug ended; he really was onto something there. It seemed so long since she had her maid to comb her hair. She’d forgotten how comforting it was, how much it reminded her of home.

She quickly stuffed the thought back where it came from. She didn’t deal in homes anymore. Not even knowing that the group of people in her life was steadying out. Luke had latched onto her cause and to her side, a bright ray of sunny-haired optimism who brought her a whole new jolt of optimism. And Han… Han was going to stay. 

She felt the dark fear feeling in her lower abdomen. The one she had come to associating with loss, with the darkest type of abandonment, the type where she was left standing utterly alone.

Was she really such a child that someone left the room and she worried they would leave her for good?

Leia straightened her back and looked herself in the mirror. Her experiences might have hurt her, but she would not cave to them. She would refuse this sort of fear completely. 

She looked down at her wrist. No yellow code. Han must, for once, be running on time.

* * *

Han was only barely late. 

He’d taken the long route, through a sort of extended pool thing that went in the general direction he was headed, in order to get the engine grease off his hands. He had worn his vest with the blaster tucked in, deciding the defensive ease was more important than the incongruence with his outfit. But the engine grease wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

He saw the entry up ahead. Beside it, on a bench, sat a little figure. It had to be Leia. 

But before she looked his way, someone got in with him. 

He saw red hair and cringed, backing away.

“Lonely morning, mister?”

Like Leia, she wore a swimming costume. But where Leia’s was frilly and light-colored, the Krysstakaan’s was black. It might even have been leather. Han was struck by just how indistinct it was from the average dancing girl’s costume.

“Just a brisk walk,” Han said. It was a bad cover. A mask couldn’t smirk, but the head underneath definitely cocked a different way. 

“You look like you need some company.” She came up to him. He tried to push her away.

“I’m not interested,” he said. 

“Aren’t you?” She asked.

And then the hard, round tip of a blaster settled against his temple.

Where the hell had she even taken that from?

* * *

Leia was furious.

So much for a yellow code — he was significantly late. 

The pit under her stomach told her something was wrong — seriously wrong — and she should abort the mission. But her practical side told her that if she halted every diplomatic mission Han Solo screwed up, the Alliance might as well give in. There was no reason to panic. If he had been in any trouble, there would have been a red code.

"Did you see on the newsnet about the storm in the Gascon System?" She muttered under her breath. It sounded reasonable enough for polite conversation. It would have worked better as a private conversation. 

But she had taken her dangers on by herself before, and she could continue to do that. She, at least, could be reliable. 

And so, clutching her basket and taking one last look out on the scenery in front of her, she turned to the doorway to go in.

* * *

“I’m disappointed you didn’t recognize me, Solo” she said. 

Of course, when she had pushed back her mask, Han had known her on sight. Except, this wasn’t the sort of world he would ever associate with her. She belonged slung over the bar of a dirty cantina with a bag of spice tucked in her gel tank, not slinking around with imperial officers. 

“You’ve taken on a new profession,” Han said. “A new citizenry, even.” 

“Everyone always said I looked Krysstakaan,” she mused. She pushed him up against the rocks. “It was just a skip and a jump to get what I want.”

“So who are you here for Caylinda?” 

“Jabba, of course,” she said. “Pretty big bounty you’ve dug yourself, Solo.” 

“Yeah, what’s the figure?” Han asked. “Been a long time since I’ve been able to check it out.”

“A lot more than you owe,” she said. “But maybe less than you have on you.”

“I don’t have anything on me,” he said.

She smirked, pressing him against the wall of the pool.

“Please don’t.”

“Why, afraid your wife will see?” Caylinda drawled.

“As a matter of fact —“

“She’s not your wife,” Caylinda said. “Is she really the Alderaani princess? I wouldn’t mind being Tatooine sisters with her.” 

Han’s blood boiled. But despite the words he wanted to spit out — that she wasn’t _anything_ with Leia, he kept his mouth shut. 

Gallantry wasn’t exactly what would keep her safe right now. 

Han angled his wrist to the wall, to try to hit the codes. Any of them. Hopefully red or black, but anything to tell Leia to stop, to get the hell out. 

* * *

It was darker than it was supposed to be. 

That set Leia off first. She kept walking, but slid one hand into her basket, snug on the grip of her blaster. With her hair in ring braids and her silly pink bathing costume, she felt like a child in a story pad. 

Then her whole wrist lit up. 

Leia scampered to the wall, brandishing the blaster as she tried to make sense of the lights on her wrist, the basket fallen to the wayside. 

The fibers creaked as it bounced on the hard, rocky floor.

Han was in danger. But so was her liaison. And Leia never left a willing partner in the lurch. 

Defensively, she crept into the next room. 

She needn’t have, she realized with a sinking feeling. 

In the middle of the pool, Biortanno Corduba floated, dead.

* * *

“I didn’t tell the imps she’s the princess,” Caylinda said. “But I can tell by the fact that you didn’t answer that she is.”

Shit. Han tried to look haughty, cavalier, but it didn’t work.

“If you don’t know what your head’s worth, you’ll be shocked at hers,” Caylinda said. She ran her free hand down his chest. Her nails were long, still cut in the Talipari way. “So much that if you help me out, I’ll even give you a cut of enough to buy off Jabba.”

Han’s stomach sank even lower. Caylinda had never been particularly generous. They had always had that in common over the years. If she was willing to give up Han’s bounty to get the rest of Leia’s… he couldn’t calculate it.

“What do you say, Solo?” Caylinda said. She cocked her head up to him like she had a thousand times. Han was disgusted by the memories it brought up. “For old time’s sake?”

Han thought of the old times. They mostly involved pairing up in the back room of Jabba’s palace, drunk or high or maybe both, looking for one more way to feel good between runs, the best two pilots working for the hutt. 

That wasn’t his life anymore. The realization set into him like stone. He wasn’t aimless anymore. Feeling good was nowhere near as important as anything he did with the Alliance, and couldn’t even compare to his ties to the people. 

Especially Leia. 

“Eat shit, Caylinda.”

* * *

Blaster fire. 

Leia ducked and rolled, posting up behind one of the tall stone columns that held up the room. 

Two more shots. Sixty degrees. She slid out and returned fire.

Strike.

More fire. 145 degrees. 

As she slid back to cover, she saw the man she’d hit slump over. He was out of uniform; that was a problem. She accessed the other side. 

No more fire. 

She stepped out, and then there was fire from 90 degrees.

_How many officers were in here?_

_How much did they know?_

Back under cover, Leia hit the black code, long and hard. They were probably blowing the code system, there was no way it was going to go unconnected with the imperial officers directly engaged. 

She thought of the cluster of signals Han had sent and felt her stomach roll. It seemed so desperate.

But despite her worry, something in her, something solid, told her he was still alive. 

Leia leaned back against the column she was hidden behind. Three shooters. One down. She pictured them: they had been in a triangle formation, and she had been the clear target. If there had been more shooters, they would have come from closer angles by now. 

They were shooting to kill, too, she thought as she looked at the scorched stone to her right. That was promising; they didn’t know who she was. 

She turned out and shot toward the left side again. The return fire only came from in front of her. 

Good, she thought as she took cover again. It was just the two left. 

A few more volleys, and she took out the left side officer. The dead-front one was the only one left, and she had to get rid of him before backup arrived. 

She cleared the column wide to the right, opposite of where she had been before. There, past the other column, turning toward her, was the old man from the pool. 

She aimed for his leg. 

It hit a little high, striking him on the hip, and he doubled over. 

He looked up at her, and held up his blaster.

“I knew you kids looked like trouble,” he said. “Now I see you’re not just a likeness to the Alderaani,” he said. Leia’s blood went cold. His hand began to fumble with a comm unit on his hand. “And _him_ — I trained _him_. A traitor.”

And Leia shot him.

* * *

Caylinda wasn’t amused by Han’s new leaf. 

He could see it in her eyes as she forced his forearms into an electrocuff. The compression was set a little overly tight, he thought, but his hands were out in front of him rather than behind, so that was promising. 

He shifted his arm, trying to gauge how heavy the metal was. He could bash her over the head, maybe. But the titanium was as light as it was strong, and it would be difficult to get enough force to effectively subdue her until he had his blaster in his hand. Which, while possible, was showing to be a clumsy enterprise, especially when trying not to draw attention to it and be stripped of his weapon. 

The fact she still had her long fingernails pressed against the skin of his chest was not making it any easier. 

The distraction he needed came sprinting around the corner. As relieved as he was to see her, the sight of her drawn blaster and frantic pace told him what he needed to know.

Caylinda had seen her, too

“LEIA,” Han yelled. 

Leia skidded to a stop and turned toward him, blaster held high. But instead of shooting at the red-head who stood closing him against the wall, Leia’s face turned to disgust. 

Right, Han was held against the wall by a prostitute. He nodded his head toward Caylinda, who was aiming her pistol on Leia.

As the two began to exchange fire Han got his blaster out, but promptly dropped it in the water.

He went under, grasping for it with his bound hands, but then something pressed his cuff to the pool bottom. 

He couldn’t get up.

* * *

The red-haired woman was holding Han to the bottom of the pool. 

Leia looked at her, her mind spinning. She’d just taken out three imperial officers. Who the hell was this?

“So, _princess_ ,” The woman said. “You’re coming with me, or I drown him.”

Leia looked at her. She said _princess_ the way Han used to when they first met, with scorn and contempt and not a little taunting. 

Leia looked down at the figure of Han under the water. He didn’t know how to swim, let alone measure his breaths. She could almost feel the ache of air inside him. 

“Fine,” Leia said. She threw her blaster over to the side.

The woman walked up toward her, her foot coming off Han’s arms. He sputtered to the surface, retching and coughing. 

His blaster was a foot from where he had risen. 

He was gaining awareness as the red haired woman was walking toward Leia, and looked angry. 

She nodded to him. He lunged at the woman, taking her by surprise and holding her underwater as Leia dove over them into the water, skimming up shallow, but far enough down to scoop up the blaster. 

She reemerged to find Han wrestling the woman, who was trying to get a shot off. 

“Who is she?” Leia asked. 

“Old flame,” Han said. Even with the strain of holding her, his voice was dark. “Bounty hunter for the hutts.”

“Very charming,” Leia said. She had half a mind to stalk off and leave Han with his problems. 

“Give me the blaster, I’ll take care of her,” Han said. Leia looked at him. This coldness scared her. 

“She was going to give you over to the imperials, come on, give it to me,” He said. “We have to get to the ship and get you off this infested planet.” 

And with a bit of a turn in her stomach, a different kind she couldn’t really place, Leia did.


	5. Back to base

It was weird, being around Leia. He always knew exactly how she felt without her speaking.

This one could probably best be labelled as “boiling lethal rage.” 

Safe into hyperspace, Han continued to lean over the controls, trying to look like he was still concentrated on the logistics of their escape. 

“I know you’re faking it,” she snapped. “And wipe the blood off your face.”

Oh. He held a tissue up to his cheek, which stung. He pulled it away to realize it was bleeding pretty significantly.

He turned to her in his chair, resigned. It was comical how short she was, really, though that thought also came with the caveat that when she was like this, he was absolutely terrified of her. 

“What happened with the guy?” Han asked.

“Our liaison,” Leia said, her voice clipping over each syllable, “was dead when I arrived.” 

Han winced.

“And I was engaged in enemy fire.”

Han winced again. He looked at her. She looked fine, but she did that sometimes…

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.” She said. “But I would like to know what, exactly, you know about how any of this transpired.” 

Han sighed, nodding. He looked her over again. No immediate signs of any wounds. If she were just stubbornly refusing assistance, well, that was her fault at this point.

“You might want to sit down,” he said. She fixed him with a sharp look. “It’s… it’s gonna be a long flight to our rendezvous.” 

Leia sighed, perching herself on the armrest of the assistant’s chair. It left her almost the same height as before, which was pointedly above his own head.

“You know I owe the hutts,” he said. He looked away from her, but could feel the snide remark bubbling. Of course she knew that. It had defined her entire first impression of him. “Well, since I haven’t paid up, I’ve got a bounty now.” 

Leia cocked her head. This, at least, was new information. He fingered a control out of restlessness. 

“When the bounty hunter discovered you were with me, she decided you were worth more.” He looked up at her. She looked unsurprised. “Like, a lot more.” 

Still nothing. 

Damn, she was really made of titanisteel under it all. But of course she would have such a high bounty. He’d been naive to not realize it. 

“Who was she?” Leia asked. 

“Her name’s Caylinda,” Han said. “We used to run into each other on Tatooine a lot. Worked for the same hutt. That sort of thing.” 

“And you were involved with her,” Leia said. 

It felt disgusting the way she said it.

“She’s not an actual prostitute,” Han said. “Or, well, I guess she became one while tracking me, but that wasn’t her thing.”

“I don’t care if she was a sex worker,” Leia said. “I care that she decided to turn you over for money.”

It stung a little bit, to hear her speak so condescendingly of his former life. But it was the same sort of activity he wasn't proud, and wanted to get away from for good.

“You never held back that you thought I was scum, darling,” Han said. He leaned back in his chair. “That’s standard practice when you work for the hutts.”

That what Caylinda had done was no more than he expected was true. But a part of him, the new part of him, was disappointed in her. 

Leia huffed out a sigh. That new side spoke up again, needing her to understand that he wasn’t like that anymore. 

“She tried to get me to help her,” he said. His voice was low, but she snapped toward him. He made eye contact with her, a softness in between them. He didn’t need to say it, but he did anyway. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Leia nodded and walked away, her hand trailing over his chair as she left.

* * *

A bad mission meant a long way back to base. 

Their first rendezvous had meant ditching the purple ship and catching a transport. They had changed from it to a y-wing which docked on an empty planet, and changed out for a small freighter Han was flying toward a hub from his old days. Leia wished he weren’t; she’d had enough of his old companions for a week.

He felt guilty, she could tell that much. But there was something else in the way he kept turning toward her. He’d grunt when he realized he’d been caught. She just went back to the comm controls, working on getting an encryption out to Milla to hit the self-destruct on the data pads they had left behind. 

That, at least, was her own fault. 

Finally, after she had sent it and the little transport was well on its way to Takodana, Leia decided she needed to make sure she had the story straight.

“So,” she asked. “You shot her?”

“Yeah.”

"Did you… did she… put up more of a fight?” 

Han turned to her. He had on that serious look, the one where he looked so much older than her, almost to the point of having wrinkles. He looked shrewd. He looked like he thought she was naive. 

“She was an active threat with a lot of information,” he said. “I shoot threats, Princess.” 

She nodded, before he could go on with his lecture. She hated when he acted like she was a child. But still, it came tumbling out of her, and she couldn’t stop it even as she knew he would find the question ridiculous. 

“Did you love her?”

To her surprise, the hard look fell away. He only looked weary. The soft look in his eyes threatened to strangle her.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said. “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t have. It wasn’t like that at all.” 

Leia nodded. She tried to pretend she understood, like she was worldly enough to know people slept with each other and then could turn around and kill each other without a second thought. It wasn’t that she was too naive to comprehend casual sex. It was only, this was beyond that. She was sure of that much. 

“Excuse me,” she said, and went back to the refresher. 

It shouldn’t bother her, that Han had killed the woman. Leia pictured her, with her red hair and strappy bathing costume. She had been pretty, with the mask off, and had the type of adult body men preferred to her childish one. She had tried to kill them both. She knew how to track Han, and through Han, the entire alliance.

But the fact Han had so coldly killed her went through Leia like ice. 

She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. It was good the woman was dead. The fact Han had been able to kill her meant his past wouldn’t infiltrate his work. That was beneficial to the Alliance.

Han cornered her on her way back from the refresher. 

She hated when he did that.

“Why did you drop your blaster?” 

He had his finger out, right above her breastbone. She broke eye contact with him, her mouth falling open at the accusation.

“It was shot out of my hand,” she said. 

He poked her. His audacity was unbelievable. 

“That’s a lie, and I know it.”

She knocked his hand away. She looked back into his eyes, but wished she hadn’t.

“You’re suddenly able to know what’s happening when you’re under water now?” She asked. 

“You don’t risk yourself for me,” Han said. “I don’t care how you feel about me, you don’t do that.” 

She gawked.

_“How I feel about you?”_ She asked. Her voice was getting shrill. She didn’t care.

“Right,” Han said. He nodded. This was absurd. She told him so.

“It was absurd for you to drop your blaster,” he said. “Gods, Leia, she could have shot you back there.”

“I’m not listening to this,” Leia said. She brushed her way past him, but there was no getting away from him on the little freighter. 

She wanted to be at home, done with this mission. But there was no home. There wasn’t even their old base. Nothing familiar to return to, just another new setup after the last. But at least when they reached base, she’d be with Luke. He would understand. 

“Don’t put yourself in danger for me,” Han said behind her.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” Leia yelled. Frustrated, she ran back to the refresher, and shut herself in there for the rest of the flight. 

When it was time to land, she made sure there was no sign she had been crying.

* * *

Han sat with his legs on the table as the little creature made sure he was well-fed. 

“I’m telling you, Maz,” he said. “I’ve been living the life. Fancy meals every day. I even swam in water.” 

“Your eyes are distressed,” Maz said. “Tell me.” 

Han sighed. He nodded in the direction of where Leia sat at a table, covered up with a headscarf and goggles. She looked like a regular dust pilot. 

“She is wildly alive,” Maz said. “She’s good for you.” 

“She almost got taken by a bounty hunter ‘cause of me,” Han said. “Caylinda. The red head.”

“Mixing with hutts never profits,” Maz said. “I have told you this, child.”

Han squirmed.

“When’re you gonna stop calling me a child, huh?” He asked. 

“When you live an eighth as long as Maz,” she said, her big smile showing. “But maybe when you stop running from problems and face them instead.” 

“I'm not running,” Han said. “I’m helping people. I’m doing something right for once.” 

“Yes, you are,” Maz said. “But until you can cut off your past, are you really helping?” 

Han sighed, and Maz patted his hand. 

“It will be hard, to let go of what is new and good, to address the old and bad. But you will test your strength in returning.”

Han laughed.

“How many pilots with a bounty have returned back here to you, Maz?” He asked.

“Not enough,” she said. Her voice was dark. “But you, Han Solo, you must.”

* * *

Hoth was cold. 

A heavy jumpsuit waited for Leia when she returned. She smiled to see that it had been bleached for her. She braided her hair up in a utilitarian wrap. It was good to be back to being useful. 

The warmth of the snowsuit was only momentary, though. As the day wore on, so did the cold, settling itself deep into her. 

Maybe that was a good thing.

She didn’t talk to Captain Solo after they landed. Or, she corrected yourself, she hadn't had any reason to. She saw him two or three times, while being shown the garage and while taking her meals in the new mess. But she was uneasy when she realized he wasn’t also summoned to report on the mission.

She didn’t want him in trouble, not really. Even though the bounty hunter had come for him, she felt equally responsible for not realizing the trouble they were in. 

The briefing room was no warmer than anywhere else on this base. It seemed they were on the very limits of what humans could physically handle. This, she thought, was the length they had to go to evade the empire.

She looked over at General Riekkan. He looked exasperated, but only lightly. He gave her a kind smile. He liked Han, Leia knew. If Mon Mothma, who hated mixing the rebellion with lesser elements, was pulling rank to punish the pilot, he would have been angrier. 

“So, Princess Leia,” Mon Mothma said. “Would you care to enlighten us how you and your companion blew our newly developed code system, compromised two highly secretive data pads, engaged in a firefight with imperial officers and lost our liaison and our connection to the Trianatt System?”

The general winked at her. 

“Well, ma’am,” Leia said. She stood up straighter. “Sometimes, missions go awry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. This is the first multi-chapter fanfic I've ever finished, and I'm super proud of that. I thought of saving this to build some more suspense, but like I said before, this is more of an epilogue; this fic has almost a Mad Men focus on the penultimate, you know? Anyway, thanks for the kind words along the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is nothing I expected to write, but it's not turning out too bad. I have a second chapter done, but I'm not going to post it until I have the third done... motivation. Know that this fic is three parts nonsense fluff for every one part actual plot, and I'm not even sorry for it.  
> Bonus, who knows who Milla and Reg are? (Yes, it is that obvious)


End file.
